


Demon Shards

by motherofaprophet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Mythology References, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 00:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17818622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofaprophet/pseuds/motherofaprophet
Summary: Draco and Hermione both enter their final year at Hogwarts desperately hoping to regain some normalcy. After the Battle at Hogwarts left the Wizarding World in ruins, its the least any witch or wizard could ask for. But when a new threat crosses the threshold of Hogwarts, they find themselves thrown into an unknown world where stories of mythology become reality and they are the only ones with the means to confront their new adversary.Can Draco move beyond what his family taught him and embrace this new world of blood equality? Or will his past prejudice prove to the downfall of the wizarding world and pull him into the sins of history.Will Hermione have the courage to look into her past and deal with trauma that lays dormant? Or will Misery snuff out the flames of Hope that have gotten her through the darkest moments of her life.





	Demon Shards

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted this first chapter before but after reading through it a few more times I realized that I was unhappy with the finished product that I'd made public. I don't have a BETA reader at the moment and so it took a little longer to finalize this time. With that being said, any mistakes made are entirely my own! Have mercy on me, I'm trying to get better and be patient with how my writing is progressing as I am in no way a trained author of any kind. 
> 
> I purposely made Draco's character an asshole because he actually is in the books and so that there could be significant, noticeable character growth as the story progresses. Because though we may love Hermione and Draco together, we also want it to be believable, am I right?! Reviews and kudos are always the cherry on top of every authors existence, so I encourage you to please leave feedback, whether it is good or bad! Thank you!

**Chapter 1: He’s Got The Vapours**

"Welcome to all the new students who will be joining us this year, and welcome back to all who are returning," Professor McGonagall addressed the mass of students seated throughout the Great Hall, her gaze penetrating as she scanned the crowd. "The faculty and I would like to clearly acknowledge how traumatic the past few months have been for you, but we want to assure everyone that Hogwarts is the safest place to heal and start fresh..."

Draco stared vacantly around the huge chamber, tuning out the Headmistress' speech. He'd heard the same thing said many times since the fall of the Dark Lord: ' _We will overcome this together if we stay united... The rubble of the past will be the foundation for the future.... We know you're all experiencing trauma blah blah blah..._ ' His mind was swimming with the propaganda of a bright future for the wizarding world. He had officially reached full capacity.

Draco made eye contact with an unfamiliar Ravenclaw, the younger wizard's hostility amused him and he couldn't resist smirking in return. Narrowing his eyes, the other student quickly returned his attention to Professor McGonagall. Draco was let down by the pitiful display.

His reputation as a former Deatheater preceded him and his popularity within Hogwarts was dismal at best. Students never failed to treat him with cold resentment and Draco found it disappointing that none of them ever did anything except silently fume. He actually missed the days when Weasley would try and curse him! His boredom was beginning to reach critical levels and he was getting antsy.

 _That's why you came back, after all. Isn't it? To get out of your bloody house and poke a few bears_.

So far he hadn't experienced anything more exciting than Longbottom tripping and ripping his trousers on his way into the Great Hall. No matter how amusing that had been, Draco was still left with an urge to create chaos.

"... And finally, I'd like to introduce you all the our newest member of the faculty, Professor Derrota. He will be heading the Potions class now that Professor Slughorn has returned to his retirement." Professor McGonagall gestured to a hulking figure at the far end of the staff table. Draco could've sworn he heard the entire female student body swoon as the new Potions Master nodded cordially. God, it was Gilderoy Lockhart all over again!

"Now, without further ado." With a graceful arc of McGonagall's velvet covered arm, dinner appeared. The clatter of utensils and excited conversation filled the Great Hall as students dove into the bounty. Steaming dinner rolls that melt in your mouth, seasoned roast beef and succulent honey glazed ham were paired with garlic mashed potatoes and various steamed greens. Draco had been starving since they'd gotten off the train and although he would never say it out loud, the food at Hogwarts was better than at Malfoy Manor. His family had cut back on their house elf staff since the end of the war and the ones they had left were dismal cooks.

All the families that had been involved as Deatheaters were required to relinquish a large portion of their fortune to assist with the damages or provide relief for the families that had lost loved ones. In the worst cases, the loss of wealth had been accompanied with the loss of freedom and many wizards and witches were locked up in Azkaban. This included Draco's father, who was now serving a life sentence.

The only reason Draco had scraped his way out of such a harsh consequence was because he'd been a minor at the time. He and his mother, Narcissa, had each received house arrest for the next five years. The only exception allotted had been if he chose to return to Hogwarts to complete his final year of education.

_So here I am_

 "Oi, Malfoy! Pass me one of those!"

Blaise Zabini hollered from across the table, gesturing to the dish of warm dinner rolls in front of Draco. Grabbing one, he lobbed it at his fellow Slytherin but instead of catching it, Zabini ducked and it went sailing over his head into the mass of students like a rogue bludger. Draco watched as the projectile flew toward the Gryffindor table and with an audible thump, the baked good bounced off the head of the one witch he'd recognize at any angle: Hermione Granger.

Chatter ceased abruptly within the Great Hall and Draco felt his excitement mounting with each passing second. _Let the games begin_.

Hermione swivelled around and her annoyed gaze immediately met his. Waggling his eyebrows, Draco predicted a shriek of outrage from the witch. It was the moment he'd been waiting for since returning to Hogwarts.... But to his surprise, she simply narrowed her eyes before turning back around to resume her conversation with the She-Weasel.

Frustration spread through his chest like flames to gasoline; there was no way in hell he was letting Gryffindor's princess get away that easily.

"What's the matter, Granger? Lost some of your fire now that the Weasel and Pothead have surpassed you in the world? I heard they left you behind to go fight off vampires with the other Aurors!"

A fork clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the ensuing silence. Draco waited in anticipation for Hermione to take the bait. Several teachers had even glanced up from the dinner to witness the exchange.

Curly hair whipped across her cheeks as she swung herself to face him, crumbs from the dinner roll falling to the floor. The fire he had just accused her of losing blazed in her eyes and Draco felt the heat from across the room. If he didn't detest her so much he might actually be aroused by the sight. Instead, her anger wrapped around him like a blanket and he languished in it.

"You better go warn all your relatives if that's the case, Malfoy! Because we all know they'll be the first to go!"

Muted snickering was heard around the room and Draco couldn't prevent his own satisfied grin. He had always known Hermione Granger was too predictably hot headed to not rise to his challenges; he felt like a panther with the thrill of the hunt in his veins.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, you two will meet me in my office after dinner. We can discuss the consequences of this juvenile display then." Professor McGonagall barked as she rose from her seat and delivered looks of disapproval upon both of them.

Draco barely suppressed the urge to tell the Headmistress where she could shove it. A flush crept up Granger's cheeks and she shot him a look of loathing before turning around. The exchange had just started to gain momentum and now his pent up excitement felt like it was suffering from a horrific case of blue balls. He felt like a spring that had been coiled to tight. Scowling, he dragged his fingers through his hair and considered the limited options now available to him _. Anyway I can blow off some steam._

Eyeing Pansy Parkinson at the far end of the Slytherin table, Draco recalled the last time he'd "blown off steam" with her, and his cock swelled at the memory. She glanced in his direction and grinned knowingly when she spotted him staring at her. Draco winked provocatively and knew that he would have no problem getting her to meet him in an empty classroom later.

Pansy was a solid bet and even though she had absurd quirks, he desperately needed the release. He was going to explode soon if he didn't either have an orgasm or blow something up and the former seemed to be the easiest to obtain without being expelled. He just needed to make it through dinner, do his time in Professor McGonagall's office and then he would be free.

_I can hardly wait._

.  
.

Hermione bid farewell to Ginny before she broke off from her fellow Gryffindors, her own meeting with Professor McGonagall taking her in the opposite direction of the warm, crackling fire she knew awaited behind the Fat Lady's portrait.

 _Stupid! How could I be so stupid_! Hermione couldn't believe she'd barely been back and was already headed to the Headmistress' office to be reprimanded. She had been sure that those days were behind her.

Harry, Ron and her had all been offered positions as Aurors and the boys had lunged at the offer. Hermione had declined in favour of returning to Hogwarts to complete her magical education. She didn't feel comfortable accepting a free ride into a Ministry position simply because people considered her a war hero. She couldn’t even accept when the shop keeper at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour offered to not charge her for an ice cream cone!

This was supposed to be her year to just be a student and learn. No distractions, no looming end of the world mysteries to unravel, just her and her textbooks. She'd been so excited to focus all of her time and energy on completing her N.E.W.T.S. Apparently nobody had told Draco Malfoy her plan for success

Hermione stomped down the dimly lit corridor as she recalled how affected she'd been by Malfoy's taunting, The torches ensconced in the stone walls flickering across the cobblestones. After all these years his arrogant, bully behaviour still caused her to act like a juvenile. She had helped defeat the darkest wizard of all time, for Pete's sake! She was better than the immature feelings Malfoy brought out in her.

"I have places to be, Granger! Not everyone's social life consists solely of themselves and a text book."

Malfoy leaned against the stone wall beside the Gargoyle Corridor, the menacing statue looming above him with its mouth agape, appearing as if it were about to devour him; Hermione wished she could magic it to do just that

Fuming, Hermione ignored him and spoke to the Guardian, "Cecil."

She'd been informed of the password to the Headmistress' office the same day she'd been given her role as Head Girl. Apparently, Professor McGonagall still had a soft spot for her childhood cat.

The Gargoyle began to ascend, revealing the spiral staircase that would lead them to the Headmistress' office. The two of them mounted the steps and reached the closed door at the top at the same time. Professor McGonagall called for them to enter before they could knock and Hermione was surprised when Draco opened the door and held it open for her. Eyeing him suspiciously, she passed the threshold into the office; she had a hard time believing that Draco Malfoy had manners of any kind.

The Headmistress sat behind her desk, signing papers with an eagle feather quill, her spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She didn't even look up as she gestured for the two of them to take a seat. The portraits of every past headmaster and headmistress gazed down curiously from their appointed perches, some with more hostility than others. Many of them flitted through their neighbours frames to whisper and point at the two young people that had just entered. Hermione fidgeted impatiently, crossing and uncrossing her legs while she waited for the professor to acknowledge them.

"I expect two students in their final year to behave themselves in a mature, professional manner. Surely you understand that the eyes of your peers will be on you to set the atmosphere for the coming year. The behaviour you two exhibited was unacceptable and I am supremely disappointed.”

Hermione flushed up to her ears and shame made her chest feel tight. In comparison, Malfoy remained unaffected as he lounged in the seat next to her. God, she hated him!

“In the aftermath of last years tragic events the mature students must build a safe environment. These are tumultuous times where fear and heartache are still prevalent and many of our young students still expect deatheaters to be around every corner! Understanding and compassion amongst you all is essential for the healing of that trauma.

“Not only are you two supposed to be mature students in your seventh year but you are notoriously famous within the wizarding community,” The Professor paused and looked pointedly at Malfoy, “though for very different accomplishments.

“The eyes of the our school will be on you constantly, taking their queues from how you two behave yourselves. Therefore, I will be docking thirty points from each of your houses as well as placing you both in detention for the next four weeks. You may start tomorrow by helping Professor Sprout clean out her greenhouses in preparation for the winter season. I expect this will not interfere with your duties as Head Girl, Miss Granger."

"Of course not, Professor." Hermione said, squaring her shoulders. She was determined to show the Professor that from this moment she wouldn't stoop as low as she had at dinner.

Turning her attention to Malfoy, the Headmistress’ expression turned steely, “And Mr. Malfoy, what I said this evening about starting fresh applies more heavily to some of our students than others. Please don’t make me regret giving you an opportunity for a new beginning.”

Hermione watched Malfoy’s shoulders tense under the scrutiny; it was a show of humanity that she wasn’t expecting from the former Deatheater.

"Now back to your dormitories. You both have a busy schedule ahead of you and I recommend you each get some rest."

Hermione watched Draco lazily rise from his chair and saunter to the door, his expression bored. She refused to meet his gaze as he held the door open for her again.

She descended the stairs in a daze, overflowing with the tasks and responsibilities she'd need to rearrange in her schedule. The prefects would need to take over her rotation on the nightly patrol for the next four weeks and they wouldn't be happy. She would have to put in gruelling hours doing homework once detention ended in the evenings if she had any hope of keeping up with her school work. She sighed heavily, realizing that sleep would soon become a distant memory, but that wasn’t anything new for her.

Running on autopilot, Hermione absently trekked back to Gryffindor's common room, her mind filtering through every possible hiccup in the upcoming weeks. The Fat Lady's warning cry was the only thing that stopped her from running head long into the portrait at the end of the corridor.

"You know, Granger, you might actually be pleasant to be around if you didn't take yourself so fucking seriously."

Wheeling around, Hermione faced Malfoy as he leaned against the corridor's stone wall watching her.

"Why the hell are you here? Don't you have a coffin to crawl back into?" Anger caused colour to rise up her neck. She feared she was already well on her way to betraying her promise to keep her emotions in check.

He rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip as he regarded her, his lazy perusal making her temper flare. Unwilling to back down, Hermione endured his leering, hating him more every second. She glared as he pushed off the stone wall and sauntered over, her heart beat quickening. When he stopped, he was so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"How does someone like you have fun, Granger? Does your moral code even allow for that sort of thing." He loomed over her, arrogance oozing from him.

Hermione felt unnerved by his close proximity and she hated that he smelled so damn good. Bergamot, like her favourite tea. _Pompous prick._

"At least I have a moral code, Malfoy. Yours has obviously been stunted by that huge ego of yours."

He took another step closer and she sucked in a breath when her breasts brushed lightly against his chest. Her resolve faltering, she took a hasty step back to put some distance between them. But Malfoy simply followed her.

"Are you a still a virgin, Granger?" He asked, his voice a low rasp in her ear.

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart seemed to stop. Unwanted memories of wet cavern walls and the smell of sea water flashed through her mind. The sensation of jagged rocks digging into her back pulled her dangerously close to absolute panic. Through sheer force of will she clamped down on the rising wave of despair and shoved it back into the farthest recesses of her subconscious. Focussing her turmoil into rage, she slapped Malfoy hard enough to leave a red welt and shoved him away.

"Fuck you!" She hastily wiped away the few tears that had escaped, hoping desperately that he hadn't seen them.

Turning her back on him, Hermione made pleading eye contact with the Fat Lady. The plump guardian gave her a sympathetic look before swinging open, not even bothering to ask Hermione the password.

.  
.

Draco's footsteps echoed off the castle walls as he descended toward the dungeons. His pace was unhurried as he pondered what had just unfolded between him and Hermione Granger.

Initially, his plan had been to hasten back to Slytherin's dormitory but when Granger had wandered away from the Headmistress' office he'd felt an unexplainable urge to follow her. Maybe it was the fact that she had been muttering under her breath about all of her airtight plans for the semester and he’d never encountered anyone so consumed with their need for perfection. It could have been that she’d been staring at the floor so intently that he wanted to see if she’d fall down the stairs or run into a suit of armor before she reached her common room. Or maybe it could’ve been something as simple as he’d been bored, either way, he’d used the opportunity to study her.

Using her vacant distraction to his advantage, Draco had really looked at her for the first time and begrudgingly admited that she wasn't entirely unfortunate looking. She was petite under her billowing robes and the crown of her curly hair barely reached his sternum. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, like the brown sugar he used to sprinkle on his toast as a boy. After awhile he even found himself watching the sway of her hips as she walked, something male in him appreciating the feminine movement.

They had been so rudely interrupted during dinner that he suddenly didn’t want to leave before finishing what they’d started; his need to conquer her in a battle of wits became paramount and he hadn’t bothered delving deeper into his obsession at that moment.

When he’d announced his presence at the portrait of that Fat Lady the anger lighting her eyes had made his blood soar. The flush on her cheeks and erratic rise and fall of her chest had made him imagine what she would look like after a thorough fucking. Which raised the question, had Granger ever even had sex before? How would she respond if he were to press her? Call him crass, but Draco had needed to know.

Striding forward, he invaded her personal space, pressing his chest into her. She'd sucked in a shocked breath and quickly stepped away from him, so naturally, he'd followed. Granger's anxious body language suggested that she wasn't accustomed to physical contact with men, but it could just be that she hated his guts and didn’t approve of his close proximity. He needed to know for sure if Hermione Granger was as pristine and perfect as she seemed on the outside.

_Are you still a virgin, Granger?_

What happened next had been unexpected. Directly on the coattails of his intrusive inquiry her stare had become unfocused and pure terror stole the fire from her eyes. His hot-headed witch adversary had looked like a tortured animal and before he could comprehend what had caused the drastic change, she'd lashed out at him. Draco rubbed his stinging cheek as he recalled the strength she'd used to push him away from her. It was nearly admirable.

Usually, he would consider his exchange with Granger an undeniable success. He'd seen the tears streaming down her face when she'd escaped behind the portrait, so why wasn’t he relishing the surreal rush of victory? He should be feeling like a tabby cat languishing in the warmth of a sunbeam. Instead, the unfamiliar emotion pressed upon his chest and that made him uneasy. He never regretted making his opponents blubber and weep, usually it helped him sleep better at night. So why the sudden turn of conscience tonight?

He clearly just needed to find Pansy and get laid.

After speaking Slytherin's password, Draco burst through the entrance and scanned the occupants of the common room. Multiple students were sprawled across the black leather couches completely unperturbed by the pillars of skulls ominously positioned like Salazar’s sentinels. After a few futile sweeps of the area he deduced that his desired bedmate was absent. Growling audibly, Draco marched toward a solemn looking Theodore Nott who lounged in front of the roaring fire.

"Where the fuck is Parkinson?" he demanded without preamble.

Theo barely glanced in Draco’s direction, his posture remaining unaffected as he leaned forward in the armchair. The flickering light made the bruises under his eyes more prominent and his already gaunt face appeared skeletal.

“She left with Zabini about ten minutes ago, I assume they’ll be awhile.”

 _Dammit_!

Pansy's promiscuous life style occasionally meant that you missed the boat if you weren't first in line; his dawdling with Granger had cost him. His mind involuntarily recalled the feeling of her breasts rubbing against his chest and his rage for her grew with his sudden arousal. Pivoting on his heel, Draco stormed to the boys dormitories hoping he could distract from his thwarted goals and hormone driven betrayals by throwing himself into his textbooks. _Fuck, I've stooped down to Granger's level of pathetic_.

The dormitory was empty when he walked in, which was probably for the best; he was ready to hex anyone who made the poor choice of speaking to him. His trunk lay at the end of the same bed he'd occupied for the last six years and the familiarity helped soothe the tension bracketing his shoulders. Taking a deep breath he popped the latch and opened the lid. All of his belongings smelled of home and it caused his chest stomach to roll. What used to be a comforting scent now reminded him of the horror the last two years had been; he barely suppressed the impulse to slam the trunk closed again.

He started by pulling out all his clothes - the expensive material soft against his fingertips - and then removed his textbooks and parchment. By laying it all out on his bedspread he was able to see how hefty his school schedule actually was this year. His parents had always encouraged Draco to push himself academically and he continued to register in the highest level courses that Hogwarts had to offer, completing them all with exceptional marks. The only student in their year who continued to outdo him was the curly haired witch he’d been harassing about an hour ago. Maybe this year he’d strive to surpass even Granger, then maybe he could soothe the damage his family name had suffered with the defeat of the Dark Lord. As he began to unwittingly remember all the events that led to the downfall of the Malfoy name, he began thinking about his mother.

Draco banished the thoughts of Narcissa Malfoy before the ache started in his chest and focussed on emptying the rest of his trunk. It didn't take long and soon his belongings were deposited neatly in their rightful spot. He had just decided to start reading his Transfiguration textbook for tomorrow’s class when something caught his eye at the bottom of his still open trunk. Peering in, Draco was surprised to see a shard of clay, the same shard that should've still been on his dresser at home. Reaching in, Draco carefully retrieved the trivial gift his aunt Bellatrix had given him the night he'd let the Deatheaters into Hogwarts.

She'd emerged from the vanishing cabinet, her expression crazed and bloodthirsty, and shoved it into his hands. Cackling maniacly, she’d stated that he'd shocked her by actually doing something right. Obviously, it was some garbage she'd swiped off the floor of Borgins and Burkes but Draco had held onto to it just in case she were to discover that he'd thrown it away. As unpredictable as she was, he didn’t want to risk her wrath if she were to uncover his ungratefulness. One of the house elves must have thrown it in with the rest of his school things.

Examining the shard for the first time, Draco noted a dark stain coating one side. Looking closer, he watched the stain swirl like a shadow in his hands, wriggling as if alerted of his perusal. Startled, he thrust the broken piece of clay away and inadvertently cut the palm of his hand.

"Fuck!" He cursed, cradling his bloody limb. The strange piece of clay clattered against the hardwood floor.

Draco fumbled for his wand so he could attend to the cut and scour the blood stains on his blankets. If he had bothered to glance down at the mysterious shard he would have witnessed the blood that still dripped down the clay absorb into the surface and disappear. Instead he mumbled angrily while mending his torn flesh, unaware of the dark happenings by his feet.

After his wound was healed, Draco stooped down and carefully grasped the broken shard. He cursed his Aunt Bellatrix vehemently as he threw her "gift" into the rubbish bin. Good riddance. He thought, thankful once again that his family was rid of her and her psychotic behaviour. That done, he retrieved his Transfiguration textbook and settled on his bed.

After completing (and memorizing) the required reading for this week's classes, Draco decided to retire for the night; the promise of tormenting his classmates giving him some hope for tomorrow. Stripping out of his robes he pulled on comfortable sweatpants and crawled into bed. Sleep pulled him under quickly and he was oblivious to his fellow Slytherins as they filed in for the night. Soon, only the sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle as someone rolled over in bed could be heard in the dark room. They were unaware when tendrils of what appeared to be black smoke began creeping out of the rubbish bin.

Like a thick fog, the shadowy vapours moved across the floor toward Draco's bed and slipped underneath the curtains. It spread across his sleeping form until settling above his head in an ominous cloud. After a moment of sentient inspection, slanted eyes the colour of blood appeared from within the smoke and peered down at him. A low hiss emitted from the mass and without warning it slipped in through Draco’s open mouth. His heart faltered as the rise and fall of his chest ceased; the colour leeched from his skin until he appeared grey.

He would awake that morning never to know that tonight had been the night that he'd died.

 


End file.
